


It's Christmas (Obviously)

by QueenTheatrics



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12438831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTheatrics/pseuds/QueenTheatrics
Summary: K[pfhnfgjmdk;fgv – initl thoguhtsChristmastime, 1993Picture this: Hazonuts Roastingonanopenfire, family friend of Fanni Emma Cupid Thompson, loves Christmas with a passion. His new friend, Tom Clause, son of Santa, does not. Can Hazo help Tom put his miserable bastardyness aside? Or will Tom Clause, cold heart, remain a grinchy grinch forever. Find out on the next instalment of It’s Christmas (Obviously). Also his da’s mark Ruffalo lmao #Also this exists inside the universe of Elf (2003)





	It's Christmas (Obviously)

**Author's Note:**

> note: for michaela who is a blessed princess   
> i hop e that your birthday is filled with Joy here is my small contribution  
> thanx to danno for the help/doing most of the work i typed for like five minutes then drew pictures

A street sheathed in white. The snow-covered rooftops glisten under the starlight. Hazo stands in the kitchen, his golden hair shining, his piercing blue eyes scintillating. He wears a red polka Minnie Mouse apron over a light blue denim shirt and white skinny jeans with gingerbread men on the rolled up cuffs. The oven timer beeps a harmonic melody to signify that the snickerdoodles are ready. Just as he is putting on his oven gloves and bending to look through the oven door, the doorbell rings. Jingle Bells plays through the house and Hazo smiles. He loves his Christmas themed doorbell. He keeps it year round. “Gotta keep the Christmas spirit alive,” he says, to no one. The doorbell rings again, insistently, but he ignores it in favour of pulling the cookies out of the oven.

Tom Clause stands outside, shivering and grumpy. He wears nothing to signify he is at all aware that it is Christmas. He rings the doorbell to Hazo’s house, and once again hears the demonic tune of Jingle Bells echoing both in the house and in his brain, like an orchestra conducted by Satan himself. After what seems like an eternity, the door opens to reveal a flour-covered Hazo.   
“I hate your jeans.” Says Tom, by way of greeting.   
“You’re such a grinch,” Smiles Hazo, goodnaturedly. Nothing will get him down tonight – or any night. It is December, after all. Rolling his eyes, Tom lets himself in. He is greeted by flynnmcgeorg, who runs up to him, immediately senses the lack of Christmas cheer and bounds away in search of more spirited company. “Don’t mind flynnmcgeorg,” says Hazo. “He just doesn’t react well to miserable bastards.”  
“Better not introduce him to Bob’s my uncle.” Says Tom.  
“Was that a joke?” Hazo says, with a tentative smile. “Are you making jokes now?”   
“Maybe…” replies Tom. There is a hint of a grin on his cute as h*ck face. One glimpse of the promise of that smile, and Hazo is beyond gone. He is Gone, Girl. Hazo turns away to look at the cookies, and when he turns back, the frown is back too. “So, are we gonna start this crapfest or what?” Tom says.   
“You wanna cookie?” Hazo says, leading Tom through to the kitchen, which is a disaster of apocalyptic proportions. Bowls are piled high in the sink, flour is scattered on every surface, and cookies are cooling on a wire rack on the windowsill. Hazo pulls the cookies down and offers one to Tom, who accepts with a grumbled ‘thanks’. He takes a single, tiny bite, and groans. A smile, unbidden and uncontrolled, spreads across his usually dour face.  
“This is the best snickerdoodle I’ve ever eaten,” Tom says. “And I’ve eaten cookies on every continent.” Hazo’s eyebrows shoot up with interest. Tom doesn’t tell him that he went with his dad, Santa Mark Ruffalo, in the reindeer-drawn sleigh.  
Pleased with himself, Hazo lifts the plate of cookies and suggests they reconvene in the living room. Following suit, Tom passes flynnmcgeorg and receives an aggressive growl from the small, pro-Christmas dog. Once in the living room, Tom notices the blankets and cushions ready and waiting to receive them. Fairy lights surround them. It is the perfect romantic setting. Tom is taken aback; aback he is taken.   
“Make yourself comfortable.” Hazo says. Tom does, heart racing and palms sweating. Hazo bustles around as Tom sits in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, waiting for something, anything to happen. Hazo disappears for a few minutes and Tom waits patiently, though he does grumble, as a miserable bastard is prone to do, while flynnmcgeorg watches him from the corner, occasionally growling to warn Tom he is there. After a few minutes, Hazo returns with a tray, laden with candycanes, chocolate and finally, eggnog.  
“Eggnog?” Tom says, sceptically.  
“It’s the drink of Christmas!” Hazo says, delighted with himself. Tom can’t help but smile as the childlike joy on the other man’s face, though he himself thinks eggnog is a vile drink, suitable only for criminals. As soon as he thinks this, he stops himself. He shouldn’t generalise, even when it comes to criminals.   
Hazo sits down beside Tom, far closer than the large couch necessitates. Tom freezes. Is this a date? The romantic setting, the fairy lights, the eggnog in matching Mr&Mr mugs (unexplained). The smile on Hazo’s face that tells Tom he is in for an evening to remember.   
“Okay, let’s get this party started.” Hazo says, excitement blooming on his angular face. “Our first selection will be Miracle on 34th Street, starring up and comer Mara Milson.” (We are avoiding copyright laws)  
“Okay…” says Tom, hesitantly.   
“It’s a good’un.” Promises Hazo, nudging him with his elbow. Hazo presses play and Tom is forced to sit back and watch Christmas cheer unfold before his very eyes. He can feel the warmth of Hazo’s shoulder pressed against the chip on his cold shoulder, distracting him from fully concentrating on the cinematic spectacle. At one point, Hazo yawns, arms stretching above his head, and Tom prepares himself for the unsubtle arm-around-the-shoulder date night trick, but it never comes. Hazo keeps his arms firmly to himself, and Tom is left curiously disappointed. He forces himself to keep watching the movie and as the minute tick by, he finds himself engrossed. Will Mara Milson save Christmas, or won’t she? By the end, he finds himself wiping away a stray tear.  
“Are you crying?” Hazo says, knowingly.  
“No.” Tom says, stubbornly. “I’m just allergic to jerks who make me watch crap films.”  
“Oh, pish posh.” Hazo laughs. “You enjoyed, I saw you smiling.”  
“That was…” Tom grumbles. “That was a small stroke.”  
“Whatever you say!” Hazo replies. “Another?”   
And who is Tom to refuse that smile.  
Several films later, midnight has come, and with it, the witching hour. Tom stretches as the credits for Love Actually roll on the screen.   
“A good movie.” He declares.  
“Has the magic of Christmas movies thawed the ice around your heart?” Hazo asks.  
“Yeah…” Tom says. “It was the movies.”  
Hazo does not seem to notice his strange tone of voice. Tom had sat for five whole film waiting for Hazo to make a move, but no such move came. Now he wonders if he misinterpreted the signals.   
“Well, I guess I better go.” Tom says. He stands, gathers his things and they walk through Apocalyptokitchen to the door. flynnmcgeorge growls as he passes. Hazo pauses at the door, and then leans in. Tom’s heart starts racing. Is this it? The Moment he’d sat through ten hours of Christmas films for? Hazo’s face is so close now, close enough to lean in and… It is just a hug. Tom’s heart drops through his stomach, through the floor and straight down to Hell. He remains unmoving, heart breaking. He finds it in himself to hug Hazo back. It’s better than nothing, after all.  
“We should do this again sometime.” Hazo says, pulling away, unaware of the pain he has unwittingly caused.   
“Yeah… We should.” Tom replies, and just manages to conceal the quiver in his voice. “I’ll see you around, Hazo.”   
He turns and leaves.   
“How about tomorrow?” Hazo shouts. Tom halts in his path. He turns and tries to keep the hopeful look from his face.   
“I can hang out tomorrow.” He shrugs. “Whatever.”   
Hazo smiles. “It’s a date then.” Tom’s heart thuds in his chest. He gives him a wave and turns away again. He walks all the way home with a skip in his step.  
\-------  
It’s tomorrow.   
_Today’s the day,_ Tom thinks when he wakes up that morning. He lies in his twin bed in his Aunt Fanni’s spare room and stares at the ceiling. Get it together, Clause, he thinks. Hazo’s just one guy. Nothing that special. Just a normal, ridiculously handsome, funny, Christmas-loving dick. The rational part of Tom is won over by the sentimental part that never usually sees the light of day. His grinchyness is wearing off, little by little.  
Tom spends far too long picking an outfit. What is appropriate to wear on a not-quite-but-definitely-a-date-date. He eventually picks something fun. He goes downstairs, ready to leave. Fanni is cooking breakfast.  
“Where are you going, all spruced up?” She asks, knowingly.  
“Nowhere,” he says into his scarf.   
“Good,” says Fanni. “You promised you would look after Micheal today.”   
Tom could kick himself. He totally forgot he had to take his brother to the park to look for winter sights – an assignment for English class, apparently.  
“But, Aunt Fanni, I promised our family friend Hazo I would hang out with him today.”   
“Is it a date?” She asks with a twinkle in her eye.   
“Absolutely not!” Tom splutters, flushing red.   
“Then Hazo should have no problem with your brother coming along, right?”  
Refusing to be proven wrong, Tom has no choice but to agree. At that moment, Micheal bounds down the stairs, clad in a garish red Christmas jumper, complete with jingle bells which ring as he bounces.   
“You excited to go to the park with me, Tom!”  
“Yeah!” says Tom, a pained look on his face. Micheal takes no notice as he sits at the breakfast bar and eats bacon pancakes, which are served to him on a Christmas platter by Fanni Emma Cupid Thompson.  
“Come on Micheal!” Tom urges, dragging his little brother out by the scruff of his Christmas jumper. “We are going to be late!”  
“For your date?” Micheal grins. He is wiser than his years in many ways. Tom says nothing in reply, and that says more to Micheal than words ever could.   
They reach the park in record time and wait at a bench by the entrance for Hazo. After a few minutes, they see Hazo and flynnmcgeorg coming up the path towards them. Micheal runs ahead to hug Hazo, his hero, his inspiration, his muse. Tom follows behind, slowly, scuffing his toes along the path.  
“Hey.” He says, hiding his smile in his scarf.   
“Hey, back.” Hazo replies, with a shit-eating grin. “You know what they say, three’s company!”  
“You brought your dog. That makes it four.” Tom points out. Flynnmcgeorg growls, not a fan of this intruder.  
“That I did.” Hazo shrugs and gestures for them to keep walking. Micheal skips forward alongside Hazo and keeps up a string of unrelenting Christmas-themed questions. Tom has no choice but to follow along behind, unhappy with the way these events have unfolded. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground as they walk, hands stuffed into his jacket pocket.  
“Are you cold?” comes a voice from the side of him. Tom’s head jerks up and he finds himself looking into the oceanic eyes of Hazo. Micheal has taken responsibility of flynnmcgeorg and Boy and Dog are walking a few feet ahead.  
“What do you mean?” Tom asks even though he has pretty much forgotten what the question was to begin with.  
“Your hands,” Hazo says.  
“What about them?” Tom frowns, lifting them to make sure they are still there. Yep, there they are intact and turning blue.  
“C’mere,” Hazo says, reaching forward and enveloping both of Tom’s hands in his own glove-covered ones. Before Tom has the chance to react or even die, Micheal begins yelling for them. Tom has never experienced bloodlust before, but he is pretty close to it now.  
Hazo drops his hands and turns to investigate the commotion. “What’s wrong, Micheal, my Christmas-loving friend?” he asks.  
“There’s a reindeer caught in the fence over yonder,” says Micheal, visibly distressed.  
Tom is visibly annoyed, but he has no choice but to follow along and see what Micheal is banging on about. True to his word, his little brother was correct and indeed there is a reindeer caught in the fence. Tom immediately recognises him as Comet.  
“Comet, what the hell?” he huffs as he approaches the reindeer. Hazo shoots him a confused look. “How do you know what the reindeer is called?” he asks Tom.  
“Uh… I meant Cosmo,” Tom says. Hazo isn’t sold. “That explains nothing,” he says.  
“Do you want to be pedantic or do you want to rescue a reindeer?” Tom asks and Hazo can’t argue with that logic.   
Half an hour later, Tom, Hazo, Micheal and even flynnmcgeorg have managed to free Comet/Cosmo the reindeer and Tom has learned valuable lessons about team work. He also got to see Hazo roll up his shirt sleeves so all has not been in vain.   
Comet escapes and gallops off.  
“Boy, ohohoho,” Hazo laughs. “I sure hope that Santa isn’t worried about a missing reindeer.” Tom knows that he is joking but he knows the truth. Santa Dad Mark Ruffalo won’t have even noticed Comet was missing. He would probably have remained ignorant until Christmas Eve where he’d soon learn he was one reindeer short. Santa Dad Mark Ruffalo is so inefficient sometimes and Tom can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes him.  
“Yeah, if he even notices,” he scoffs. Hazo looks confused. “What do you mean?” he asks. Tom tries his best to act casual and Micheal steps aside, not wanting to be involved in this awkward conversation that would surely only make Tom grumpier than he usually is.  
“Nothing.” Tom says. _Except everything._  
“Okay…” Hazo is not convinced but he doesn’t push the issue. Tom has never been more in love.  
The date (quote-unquote-date) continues then ends, uneventful and concluded with another torturous hug. The presence of Micheal and flynnmcgeorg as well as Comet/Cosmo’s unwanted cameo, has completely ruined the romantic atmosphere Tom had been hoping for.  
Before Hazo leaves, Tom calls out to him.  
“Do you want to come to my Aunt Fanni’s Christmas party?” he asks him. Hazo laughs because it has already been stated that he is a family friend so, of course, he has already been invited. Realising his error, Tom indulges in a few seconds of self-loathing before collecting himself and manning up.  
“I mean, do you want to come with me?” he asks.   
Hazo’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.  
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” he says, and gives Tom a thumbs up. Because he’s cute like that.  
Tom is beginning to think this was not a wasted day after all.

 

Aunt Fanni Emma Cupid Thompson’s halls are decked with boughs and holly.   
“Fa la la la la la la la la la,” Tom mutters sarcastically as he is forced into a Christmas jumper. It does not go unnoticed that he fails to put up as much of a fight as he would have before.  
“The Hazo effect,” Micheal explains to Twopence Middleton. Tupperware’s children are running around armed to the teeth with holiday cheer. Millie Bobby Brown tells George from IT (2017) to stop running so much in case he falls and knocks even more teeth out, but that’s a story for another day.  
When the doorbell rings, Tom hurries to open it. Hazo is standing on the other side dressed in a Christmas sweater that even rivals Micheal’s extensive collection.  
“You look ridiculous,” Tom tells him but he cannot hide the smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued...


End file.
